


Holy Ground

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Series: Short Stories! [20]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blow Jobs, Character Turned Into Vampire, Immortality, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Priest Peter Parker, Religious Guilt, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Church, Strangers to Lovers, Vampire Sex, Vampire Wade Wilson, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: Based off a prompt from reader who wanted Priest!Peter and Vampire!Wade and sex in holy places.********Peter is a young man turned to priesthood as penance for being with his lover when his Uncle Ben dies.Wade is the Vampire that comes to the church, drawn by the heartbeat of the beautiful priest who insists so strongly that he doesn't want the creature there.Helpless against what he feels for the Vampire, Peter gives into what he has been taught is sin, only to have the Vampire tell him that love is divine, that no god and no immortal would strike them down for something so pure, and that everywhere they are together is Holy Ground.***********{{{Warnings for religion-caused homophobia, internalized homophobia, Vampire!Wade being fairly blasphemous towards traditional religion and uh… well our boys get busy in a place where they shouldn’t get busy. If any of these things are going to offend you, skip this fic.Anyone who doesn’t have a problem with the above– enjoy :) Because its honestly a sweet fic and I love it.}}}





	Holy Ground

Peter eyed the figure in the second pew uneasily, but tried to go about his usual duties as if he wasn’t bothered by the unblinking gaze and the slight smile that always rested about the mans lips. 

It was easier said than done of course, because it was odd enough for anyone to sit and watch the priest throughout the day, but it was odder still for it to be a  _man_ who stared so intently. 

But to make it all the worse– Peter, or Father Parker as he was known to his parishioners, knew very well that the man that sat so long without moving, wasn’t a  _man_ at all. 

He was a supernatural creature, something that belonged in the dark, a spirit, a demon, an entity that had fanged teeth and eyes that flickered red– a  _vampire_. 

“This is holy ground.” Peter had blurted when the vampire had first set foot inside the church. “Holy ground, and you are  _not_ welcome. Depart.” 

“Not welcome?” the vampire had replied, and smiled slowly as he looked around the sanctuary. “I would beg to differ, seeing as how I cannot enter a place when I am not invited.  _Someone_ wants me here.” 

“You are  _not_ welcome.” Peters voice hadn’t been as firm as he wanted it to be, and the vampire only smiled again, sitting gracefully in the furthest pew from the alter and spreading his hands in a  _please continue_  motion. 

“I will not trouble you.” he had promised, and he had kept his word, sitting silently day after day, averting his gaze when the parishioners came to pray, slipping out the door during mass and returning as soon as the church was empty again, sitting a row closer to the alter every time he returned, until he sat two pews away and had a perfect view the young priest  _Father Parker_ and everything he did. 

“Am I bothering you?” he asked politely, when Peter paused for the sixth time in so many minutes, huffing out a breath of annoyance. 

“You should not be here.” Peter insisted. “Others are beginning to ask questions about you, and how should I answer them?” 

“With the truth?” the Vampire suggested, a teasing lilt to his voice and the priest tugged at his collar uncomfortably. 

 _Interesting_. 

“I cannot tell the faithful of this village that a demon has taken to sitting in the seats of our church.” Peter shook his head. “They would not believe me, or worse, they would believe me and assume I had invited the abomination. Priests have been killed for less.” 

“Abomination?” the Vampire arched an eyebrow. “ _Demon_? Surely you know I am none of those things.” 

“You are all of those things and more!” Peter snapped, and the light shifted in the church, the clouds moving across the sun, and the Vampires smooth skin flickered, looking for just a moment as if he was covered in scars, the light eyes darkening to a red–

–and then the light changed again and he was as unsettingly beautiful as always, and Peter tugged at his collar yet again, uncomfortable with the  _awareness_ that stirred in him in the Vampire’s presence, uncomfortable with seeing the demon as beautiful, angry with himself for falling into this sin again, this  _attraction_ that he had tried to hard to smother. 

The Vampire was beautiful, flawless, surrounding by an energy that called Peter closer, his eyes flashing with an interest that kept Peter awake at night, the muscled lines of his body evident even beneath his clothes and  _oh_ Peter wanted to touch. 

But he shouldn’t. He  _couldn’t_. 

_Oh he wanted…._

“Fret not.” the Vampire said then, head tilted in curiosity as he felt the emotion from the priest change, the hint of annoyance bleeding into panic and  _desire._  “I would not allow them to burn you for inviting something such as myself into your sanctuary.” 

“It is not their fire I am concerned with.” Peter muttered under his breath. “But the ones that burn for me in Hell as punishment for–” 

“Stop.” the Vampire ordered, and Peter’s mouth snapped shut of its own accord, the creatures power flexing in the air. “You mortals think that your god is so concerned with your attractions? That the immortals would care anything for who you take to bed, and you are  _wrong_. To be a god, to be immortal means to not care for trivial things, not when issues of eternity are at stake. Love who you would, be it the darling girl who makes eyes at you during her prayers, or the man who brings you your firewood. The gods care not.” 

“You would dare speak for the Creator?” Peter gasped and the Vampire smiled, slow and easy, wicked teeth glinting in the late afternoon sun. 

“Who is to say your Creator does not speak for me?” 

“Blasphemy!” Peter shouted. “You should be struck down for such words!” 

“If you know of an immortal strong enough to do so–” the Vampire shrugged, and Peter went back to work shaking with anger… and with curiosity over the Vampires words eating away at his soul.

************************

************************

“Why are you a priest?” the Vampire asked, this time from the seat closest to the alter and Peter hesitated before answering. 

“My Uncle perished, and to pay penance, I came to the church to serve.” he said briefly. 

“Penance.” the Vampire snorted. “Why?” 

“It was my fault he was killed.” Peter was lighting the candles for evening, and paused to send an uncertain look at his guest. “I was… distracted when I should have been paying attention and he was struck down.” 

“And how were you distracted?” 

“I was…” a flush then, from beneath the priests collar, filling his cheeks. “I was with my lover.” 

“A man.” the creature clarified, and Peter hissed at him to  _be quiet_ , glancing around the empty sanctuary uncertainly. “There is none here but us, and your secret is assuredly safe with me.” he grinned, baring his fangs at the young man, if only to see him blush again. 

“And have you confessed your wrong doing? Begged your Creator to absolve you of the sin of simply loving another person?” 

Peter only looked at him, then looked away. “All the confessions in the world will not absolve my guilt.” 

“Hm.” The Vampire nodded. “I see.” 

*********************

*********************

“Do you have a name?” Peter asked, sometime later, days and weeks and months after the vampire had first set foot in the church. “It couldn’t be harmful to know your name after all this time?”

“I will tell you my name.” the Vampire nodded. “If you will give me yours.” 

“My name is Peter.” he said after a long moment. “Peter Parker.” 

“Peter.” the Vampires voice deepened and Peter shivered, not sure he would ever get used to the way the Vampire spoke, the way he seemed to croon his words. “You may call me Wade.” 

“Wade?” Peter repeated, then sucked in a quick breath when the Vampire stood to his feet, suddenly much closer to him than he had realized, nearly looming into his space, taller than Peter had realized, bigger than he had realized, a scent of wind surrounding him, something electric in the air that could only be the Vampires power flexing around them. 

“Peter.” the Vampire crooned, and then there were cool fingers on Peters cheek, a hand at his waist, and he had just the briefest glimpse of fangs as Wade leaned close to say into his ear, “Now I know your true name, as you know mine, and we hold a power over one another, do we not?” 

“Was it my sin that allowed you entrance to the church?” Peter whispered, reaching out and touching  ~~the Vampires~~  Wades shirt, curling his fingers in the soft linen. “Is it because of me?” 

“Not your sin.” Wade shook his head. “Your heart.” 

“My-my heart?” 

“I can hear how hard it beats for me.” Wade moved closer without seeming to take a step at all, and suddenly Peter was pressed up against the railing that separated them from the altar, his eyes wide as his back arched, and he couldn’t stop the moan that broke from his throat when Wade slid even closer, lining their hips up and rocking against him suggestively. 

“I can feel how badly you  _want_ –” lips on Peter’s skin and he tightened his hold on Wade’s shirt. “–how badly you want to be free, to lose yourself so you don’t hurt anymore, how much you need something  _more_ than what you have.” 

“Im–Im happy as a priest.” Peter stammered, and his eyes slammed shut against the prick of teeth over his pulse. 

“No you aren’t.” Wade shook his head, slid his palm up to Peters throat and hummed over the desperate little gasp the beautiful boy made. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have invited me in, would you?” 

*********************

*********************

Peter sat himself shakily in the confessional, crossing himself and holding his rosary tight as he shut the door, sealing himself off from the sanctuary. 

It was just after Mass, and Wade hadn’t returned yet, so Peter thought it safe to confess, safe to speak of his feelings, even if there wasn’t another priest to hear it. 

“Forgive me Father.” he whispered, closing his eyes as he knelt. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned and it has been…far too many days since my last confession.” 

Silence in the other booth, because Peter was the only one in the church, and the silence bolstered his courage, even though he kept his voice quiet. The confessional was nearly sound proof, with thick walls and a heavy door, but one could never be too sure if anyone was listening. 

So he softened his tone and clenched his fists– “I am  _conflicted_. I am torn. I should not feel the things I do, but I cannot stop them. I have repented and turned from my ways and now there is another who tempts me more than I have ever been tempted before. He says that our Creator would not care who I love, and yet I have heard my entire life that how I feel is sinful and I cannot keep myself from—” 

Peter took a deep breath. “I do not  _want_ to keep myself from wanting…him. When he touches me, it does not feel wicked. When he smiles at me, it is as if I am singing hymns. And his lips–” another breath, this one entirely unsteady. “his lips– I  _want_ –” 

“ _Peter_.” 

“Wade!” Peter blurted, hating the jolt of desire that burned through him, and reveling in it all at the same time. “You cannot be in here! A confession is personal between a soul and the Creator and–” 

“Peter.” Wade said again, and through the lattice separating the confessional booth, Peter could see his eyes burning an unholy red, teeth glinting in the low light, the scars of a thousand years flickering under his skin as the vampire tried to control his glamour. 

“Oh  _god_.” Peter whimpered over the display, and Wade’s hand lifted, the lattice smoking hot then burning away entirely, leaving nothing but air between them. “Wade–” 

“On your knees.” Wade growled, and Peter felt the compulsion push through the words then recede as if Wade had  _wanted_ to compel him, then changed his mind, leaving Peter the choice to say no. 

 _As if Peter would say no._  

“On your knees as if you are  _properly_ penitent.” Wade repeated and Peter dropped to the floor of the confessional obediently, his eyes were wide, his mouth open, already swaying towards Wade, his fingers twitching out to  _touch_.

“Where do you go during Mass?” Peter managed without taking his gaze from Wade’s hand as he loosened the ties of his trousers. “Where do you go?” 

“I need to feed, to drink.” Wade pushed his pants down his thighs and Peter moaned a little helplessly when the vampire lifted his cock, heavy and thick to his lips. “Even though I would stop going out to search for a meal, if you would offer me your neck, offer me your body.” 

Peter swallowed hard, flicked his tongue out to  _taste_. “And my soul? What about that?”  

“Your soul is yours to own.” Wade murmured, and smoothed a thumb over Peters cheek as perfectly sweet red lips opened to take him further. “And yours to give.” 

Peter slid his palm down his own aching cock, tilted his head back and groaned hungrily when Wade slide his hand into his hair, holding him tight, holding him still as he fed more of his length into the warm,  _willing_ mouth. 

“I would sell my soul all over again to have this for eternity.” Wade murmured when he had finished and spilled over Peters tongue and down his throat. “Those who would say this is sin, will never know how close we come to  _holy_ together.” 

Peter didn’t answer, only let his eyes drift shut in bliss as he licked his fingers clean. 

*******************

******************* 

Wade bit Peter for the first time lying on the cot in the rectory, the small room that served as Peter’s living quarters in the church. 

He lay the young priest out beneath him, tore the white collar from his shirt and stabbed his teeth into Peter’s neck, muffling the scream of pleasure and pain with one hand, keeping Peter still with the other. 

Peter writhed on the cot beneath him, dragging his nails down Wade’s back to his ass and lifting his hips pleadingly, groaning in relief when Wade lay against him and they could rub together. 

“Please.” he panted. “Please  _more_ –” 

“Settle.” Wade whispered and licked the bite mark to seal it shut. “Too much and you will be lost.” 

“Lost like this is better than how I was lost before.” Peter rolled his hips eagerly. “ _Please_.” 

“Settle.” Wade said again, his eyes glinting red. “Another time.” 

*********************

 _Another time_  was the very next day, and then a few days after that, and then almost every day for a week, and now, another time was  _today_ , with Peter shoved up against the wall of the sanctuary, the light from the stained glass windows filtering down and over their bodies. 

Here the lines of the window panes looked like cracks against Wade’s skin and when Peter reached out he could feel the roughness with his fingertips. 

“Why the scars?” he asked and Wade wedged closer to him, pushing him harder into the wall, lifting the clerical robes until he could get his hands on Peter’s slim thighs, shoving the cap from Peters head so he could bury his nose in the thick hair. 

“Why the scars?” Peter asked again as Wade forced his head to the side, fangs scraping his skin. 

“A millennia of sin.” Wade muttered, lapping over Peter’s pulse, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he heard the priests heart rate pick up. “A millennia of sin is shown on my body, my own penance for eternal life.” 

“Eternal?” Peter tried to quiet his gasp when Wades teeth pierced his skin, the initial point of pain swallowed by the heat that raced through through his veins, the way his muscles went lax in Wade’s arms, how every bit of sensation narrowed to the pull of Wade’s tongue in his neck, and the hard cock pressing between his legs. 

“Eternal.” Wade said when he lifted his head and crushed their mouths together, letting Peter lick the blood from his lips and tongue. “Does that frighten you?” 

Peter blinked up at him with dilated eyes, already leaning in for another kiss, blood in the corner of his mouth and legs tightening around Wade’s waist. “You don’t frighten me.” 

Wade shifted beneath him, loosening his pants to free his cock, and shoved deep inside Peter in an easy slide, reseating himself where he had been only hours before, when he had bent Peter over a pew of the church and taken him hard enough to leave bruises, using his power to hold the doors of the church shut lest anyone came knocking, and when the priest had cried out for him, cursing in Latin and begging for Wade to let him finish–

–the Vampire had sank his teeth into Peter’s neck and drank deep, letting blood tinted sweet by their love flow over his tongue and into his very soul.  

*******************

*******************

“I am doomed for this.” Peter said, weeks later as they lay in the rectory together, the church quiet after evening mass, the candles extinguished and the last parishioner sent home with blessings. “Does this mean my prayers are for nought? The absolution I give during confessional, is it null? Are their souls to be punished because I am wicked?” 

“You are not wicked.” Wade denied. “Love is not wicked.” 

“Love.” Peter tucked his face into Wade’s chest, feeling the scars that were ever present beneath the Vampires glamour. The skin was flawless, but just beneath the surface was bumps and ridges, rough patches that scraped against his palms. “Is that what this is?” 

“Do you not love me?” Wade tugged the collar from Peters shirt, tossed it on the ground to bare Peter’s neck, admiring the bite marks near the curve of his collarbone. “Are you not mine?” 

“Is it love if I belong to you?” Peter questioned, sitting up and staring down at the vampire. “Is it truly faith if I only believe because I am afraid of the hell fires? Because I have given into my lust, am I sentenced to an eternity of damnation? Is my sin with you so much worse than the baker engaging in adultery with the seamstress? Or the miller, who lusts after his own brothers wife?”

“Why the questions?” Wade squinted at him. “Peter,  _why_ –” 

“I would rather eternity with you–” Peter traced the lines of a scar he couldn’t see. “–collecting scars for my sins, than an eternity away from you, paying for these brief moments of–” 

He stopped, stared into Wade’s eyes until they darkened to red, a growl from the vampires throat, possessive hands on his back and waist. 

“these brief moments of love.” he finished. “Will you have me? Can I be yours?” 

“What about your family?” Wade asked, even as he stroked over the light bruise on Peters neck, red eyes lit with longing. “The guilt over your Uncle? You congregation here?” 

“I have no more family.” Peter answered slowly. “And I will not pay penance any longer for something I could not have prevented, whether I was present or not. And my congregation, the faithful in this village, deserve more than a priest who has no wish to be here.” 

“And you would be mine?” Wade pressed. “An eternity?” 

“Yes.” Peter nodded, trembling a little when Wade held him tighter. “Yes. An eternity.” 

Wade leaned up and kissed him sweetly, gently, with all the tenderness he could manage. “This is not an easy life.”

“Neither is this one.” Peter countered and Wade smiled, fangs lengthening and sharpening. 

“And eternity with my priest? How intriguing.” 

“Perhaps we shouldn’t do… _this_ … on holy ground.” Peter whispered uncertainly and Wade shook his head. 

“To be with the one you love is divine, and the immortals know this more than anyone.” Wade brought their mouths together one more time. “Everywhere we are is holy ground.”   

*****************

*****************

The disappearance of Father Parker from the church was talked about for a long time afterwards, how one day the priest had been smiling and greeting them with blessings for Mass, and the next he was simply… gone… and the stranger that had sat in the church for so many months was gone as well. 

There were whispers of course, that the priest had run off with the stranger, that the young man with nearly sinful lips had fallen  _that way_  and fled rather than be put to death for his inclinations.

There was a bloodstain on the floor of the rectory, not enough to make anyone assume the priest had been murdered, but suspicious none the less, and the rumours changed then that the mysterious man had killed the young priest, and buried his body somewhere to avoid capture. 

The confessional booth had been vandalized, the lattice that separated the priest from the penitent torn away, and there were score marks on the altar that looked like nails had ripped through the gold but that was– that was  _preposterous_. 

The new priest– Father Murdock– was well spoken and literate, happy to not only do his church duties, but also to sit in in the village trials and act as a lawyer for those accused. His blindness did not seem to hamper him in anyway, and many parishioners felt more comfortable in confession knowing that priest couldn’t see them at. 

All was well. 

*****************

*****************

“Whats wrong?” Wade picked up Peter’s hand and sucked two of his fingers deep into his mouth with a low moan, letting his fangs scrape over Peter’s knuckles. “Why are you upset?” 

“Im not upset.” Peter smiled, heat curling through him at the feel of Wade’s teeth on his skin.

“You were frowning.” Wade pushed Peter’s slick hand down to his trousers and Peter laughed then, sweet and carefree, his eyes lighting with happiness.

It had been almost instant, the change in the priests demeanor once they had left the village. He had gone from soft spoken and sad to laughing every day, from guilty over his Uncles death to realizing it was out of his control, from thinking he needed to pay penance for every one of their kisses, to seeking Wade out, pressing their bodies together and shoving the vampire down to the ground, or into a wall, or onto a bed, or just down to his knees whenever he wanted. 

Peter laughed now, often and readily, a surprising sense of humour and bend towards sarcasm and vulgarity coloring his words. He was fascinated by Wade’s stories, thrilled by the feel of the chase as they hunted together, sated on the blood they shared, and willingly curled up in Wade’s arms every night, no matter where they found themselves. 

It was perfect. 

“Why were you frowning?” Wade asked again, and Peter laughed at him again. 

“I was frowning because I still have gold under my nails!” he showed Wade his free hand, the specks of gold visible under the fingernail. 

“You shouldn’t have held on so tight.” Wade teased. 

“You shouldn’t have fucked me over an altar!” Peter snarked back. “I’m still shocked we weren’t struck by lightning!” 

“What did I tell you?” Wade yanked him close then, burying his fingers in Peters thick hair, bumping their noses together. “Whether it is against an altar, on the floor of the church, beneath the night sky– everywhere we are is holy ground. No immortal will strike us down for our love. To love is divine, and in itself, something of worship.” 

“I never knew that a creature of the night could be so romantic.” Peter said softly and Wade bent down to kiss him. 

“I have had a millennia to perfect my charm.” he said sweetly. “And now you have a millennia to swoon before it.” 

“Im sure I will be overcome.” Peter promised, and this time when he smiled, fangs peeked out from beneath his lips, his eyes shading red.

“Beautiful.” Wade growled, and turned his head so Peter could bite him, shuddering at the first sharp pinch, then groaning as pleasure poured through him. “Mine for an eternity.” 

“Yours.” Peter whispered. “For an eternity.” 


End file.
